A Pair of Fools
by XHikariSoraX
Summary: What is a fool? Someone gullible, someone uniformed? Or just a normal human being, because compared to whatever God there is any normal human would be a small, insignificant, bug compared to them. But what if a Fool could surpass a god? Maybe not one fool could pull it off, but two could. AU. DGM belongs to Hoshino Katsura.
1. Chapter 1: The First Fool

It's hard to explain, the feeling one gets when tragedy is about to strike. A sort of numbness in your hands and feet. The tingling sensation on the back of your neck, so that whenever something made a sound you would shiver. The impression that something heavy is pressing down on your chest; right above your lungs, so it's hard to breath. The tragedy was coming.

A small town in England is where we start.

Snow fell.

_It's cold…_

No one was walking the streets.

…_I'm lonely…_

No one was there to comfort the child; a small boy, with messy auburn hair that was cut in a clean fashion. He was a sickly pale color, with dark, heavy bags under his eyes, marking his lack of sleep. He was dressed in a green quilted coat that was worn around the edges, with a few loose threads at the hems, but overall well taken care of. An old, dirty oven mitt covered his left hand. The poor thing was far too young-only ten- to be mourning the loss of a loved one.

_Please… Help…_

No one would here his call, no adult or child, no saint or sinner, no God.

But of course, **He** did.

"**Good evening little one, you look sad."**

A bulbous 'Man', large enough to look as though he were hiding another companion or two under his rather odd, pale yellow overcoat. A tall top hat rested on his head. He could only be described as demon. If his cracked, pale, purple skin, and his long pointed ears that protruded out as far as a foot away from his head wasn't enough to earn him the title, then his smile would. His teeth were far too big for him to be able to close his mouth, leaving them in a permanent smile from hell.

(Remember this, when the Devil comes,)

"**Would you like me to bring your daddy back to life for you~?" **The words dripped with sweetness, glazing over the ominous idea.

(It's best not to listen. Because,)

"**I simply need you to call for him, since you have such a special bond~."**

(Though he may be telling the truth,)

"**Wouldn't it be great if you could see him again~?"**

"_H-He'll come back"_ The trembling voice of the boy, slathered in hope and disbelief.

***O*O***

'_**NO! Don't listen to him!'**_

***O*O***

** "Of course! Come, let's call him back from your detestable God~!" **A skeleton, constructed of metal and despair, rose from the earth. Still and lifeless.

_"But can he, I mean, will he hear me call him?"_

*O*O*

'_**You have your life! Be happy with that!'**_

*O*O*

**"Now, raise your voice and call out to the one you love back from the other world."**

*O*O*

'_**Don't dwell on the past! Move on!'**_

*O*O*

(The truth can be a very, very ugly thing.)

"_MANA!"_ The small boy cried, under the pretenses that this act would bring back his 'Father'.

And it did.

"_A-Allen?"_ The thing-it was no human, not anymore-wearily spoke the name of his son. The one who had brought him back to life, as monster, but back to life nonetheless.

"_Mana?" _Oh how happy the boy sounded. His lost father, the only one in the whole world who wouldn't look at him with disgust, the only one in the whole world who would treat him like a human being, the only one in the world that actually cared about him, was right in front of him. Sure, the metal skeleton that stood before him looked terrifying, but hearing Mana's voice coming from it made it okay. It didn't matter what he looked like, it was still Mana. Though how Mana felt about this was a little bit…

Unexpected.

"_How could you, Allen"_ It's voice trembled with despair, but it grew. _"How dare you!"_ The dare was proof of the anger that he felt. _"HOW DARE YOU TURN ME INTO A DEMON_!" How tragic.

"_M-Mana?"_ The boy, Allen, was confused. Why was Mana mad at him? Did he not like that his peace had been disturbed?

"_I CURSE YOU! I CURSE YOU ALLEN" _The long, sharp, blade that replaced the arms of the skeleton cut one long slash down the left side of 'Allen's' face.

The small boy stumbled back, tripped, and fell on his back.

That's when **He **let out a chuckle. And spoke,

"**Oh young Allen, your all mine now~. Mana Walker, I command you to kill the boy and to wear his body! ~"**

"_I curse you, ALLEN!"_

A mad father, held and imprisoned against his will.

A sad son, with nothing left to live for.

Or so he thought.

'_**Fight back!'**_

'_Huh?'_

The limp, useless left arm that had always been part of 'Allen' suddenly changed.

A flash of bright light. The boy was being dragged by a force he couldn't control.

'_**Live!'**_

"_RUN! RUN MANA! FATHER!"_

"_Allen, please, destroy me. Destroy me!_

"_FATHER! FATHER!"_

"_I-I love you, Allen." _He stuttered the words, the words he hadn't dared to say to anyone for a very long time. And then he crumbled away into ash.

**He** had disappeared in the commotion of the father and son's 'reunion', leaving the boy alone once again.

Or maybe not.

'_**Hey, you.'**_

'…'

'_**That man, do you hate him?'**_

'…'

'_**You know, it's rude to not respond when a person's talking to you. I thought Mana taught you that.' **_The voice snapped impatiently, sounding very aggravated by his 'companion's' lack of an answer.

'…_You…'_

'_**?'**_

'_You… know M-Mana?' _The words came out slow and he stuttered them.

'_**Mm, Yeah, I do. So, do you hate him?' **_His voice had softened very slightly hinting at nostalgia.

'_Mana?'_

'_**No! The Earl!' **_The voice snapped again, losing its softness.

'_Who?'_

'_**The Fat man.'**_

Normally this may have enticed a snicker from the young boy, but trauma simply wouldn't allow that. _'Oh.'_

'_**Well, do you?'**_

The tangible speaker didn't answer immediately, supposedly lost in a torrent of thoughts. But,

'_Yes.' _The reply was firm, contrasting with the rest of the conversation.

'_**Heh. Well if that's the case, welcome to the club.'**_

'_Who are you?' _

The voice idled, as if deciding how detailed his answer.

'_**I am somewhat of a kindred spirit. Someone I cared about was turned into a demon by that man too.'**_

'_I meant your name.'_

'_**I've gone by many things, but I prefer Neah.'**_

"_Neah…" _The boy said the name with somewhat skeptic tone.

"_**Yes?" **_Came the lilting reply, eerily enough from the boy's own mouth.

'_H-h-h-o-?"_

'_**I share a body with you, so it's only natural I can use your vocal cords too. Duh.'**_

'_B-b-b-but!'_

'_**Ah~ No But's! It's actually really simple, so technically I wouldn't have that much trouble taking over your whole body~!' **_The boy's face stretched into a smile, much to his own horror.

'_**The thing is that isn't much fun, and by the sound of it you just might hate the Earl as much as I do. Well, do you?'**_

'_I-I hate him…' _It wasn't a question, but not a reply either.

'_**Enough to kill him?'**_

There wasn't a reply.

'_**I see… Well then, I guess that I'll just be-'**_

'_How?' _He interrupted firmly.

_**'Hm?'**_

___'How do you plan to kill him?'_

_**'Painfully, of course. What, do you want to help?'**_

___'…'_

A sigh, _**'Come now, I don't have all day.'**_

___'…Yes.'_

This caught Neah off-guard, but only for a few seconds. _**'Well then, we should get going.' **_He paused for a moment, then asked, _**'Hey, what do I call you?'**_

__The boy didn't answer at first, letting an overbearing silence drag out, until…

…

"_You may call me as you see fit, because no matter what name you pick I will consider myself a fool."_

The boy's words rung out into the world, filling something in the universe that had been empty before.

Neah, who was rather amused by the reply, answered after a brief pause. _**'Well then, Fool, it'll be a pleasure working with you.'**_

*O*O*

A small boy stood up from the grave he had been leaning against. Dry blood caked the left side of his face, his clothes had become wet from sitting in the snow, and his white hair was disheveled and dirty.

His eyes, one a vibrant gold, the other a dull silver, darted from side to side. After reassuring that the empty street was indeed empty, he disappeared into the snow.

**A/N: Yay! My first fic on this site! I hope you enjoy this, I've been working on it for a while. *Sigh*It was way too rushed at the end, and I was hoping it would be longer too. Oh well. I didn't have a Beta-Writer, so I'm sorry if there's some mistakes. If you find any, please point them out in a review! Critiques, Comments, Questions, Flames, and Death threats are all welcomed!**

** Oyasumi~!**

**Hika-Chan.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Second Fool

A lot of people say that it's hard to explain new concepts to children. Normally they only meant it when the child was an innocent one.

We continue the story in a different dimension, a pocket dimension, to be exact. Though it was dubbed the 'Ark', the unoccupied, white city was far from being considered a boat.

Two males-one in his late teens, the other barely ten- were in a white room. The room had no windows. One wall was entirely covered by a mirror which reflected the entire room perfectly, including the White Grand Piano in the center of the room, and the two figures sitting on a white upholstered couch, facing each other. The older was giving the younger summarized explanations of topics such as The Millennium Earl, The Clan of Noah, Demons** (*)**, The Black Order, Exorcists, and Innocence.

It had been several hours since the second death of Mana Walker. In that time the youngest Walker had since been cleaned up, the dry blood on his face had been washed off and bandaged, his now white hair had been brushed, and he was now wearing a clean, baggy, white, button-up shirt. All of it courtesies of the man referred to as Neah.

Allen heavily sighed, skepticism undisguised on his face. He glared at his companion (i.e.: The voice in his head/Neah)-a young man dressed in a long cream colored coat and a black suit vest. His dark hair was clean, but messy. "You honestly expect me to believe _that_?"

In return, Neah shifted awkwardly in his seat. Sure, he had expected the kid not to believe him at first, but not to be scowled at by a ten year old! "Well, in my defense, I don't see a reason why you shouldn't believe it."

The boy rolled his eyes; if this was the only partner he had, then his plan for revenge wasn't going to happen for a _long_ time. "So in short, there's a fat man running around and resurrecting the dead for his personal army that he plans to use to destroy humanity?"

Neah nearly snorted at the boy's bluntness, it almost made the idea funny. "Well, you left out a few details, but that's pretty much it." Neah drummed his fingers on the table nervously. Though he had made quite a show out of being able to take control of the boy's body, in reality it was quite exhausting and he could only do it for short periods of time. It would be ideal if the boy would help on his own volition. Gulping, Neah picked up the conversation again, "Besides, do the details really matter?"

The boy's eyes narrowed, now more wary then annoyed. "Usually, when someone hides the details they're telling a lie." The boy leaned closer to his companion, causing the other to fidget. "Are you lying to me?"

A small smile played on the adult's lips, "I wouldn't lie to you, but if you didn't ask something there's a possibility I wouldn't tell."

The boy bit his lip, the ambiguous reply had put up a small block in his attempt to get a stronger grasp on the situation. "But I can ask whatever I want?"

He nodded, "Yep, ask away."

"Alright then. What's your name?"

"Neah."

"Full Name."

He rolled his eyes. "Neah Walker."

"That's the same as Mana's, coincidence?"

"No. He's my brother."

Allen was taken aback by this, "Oh? You're the brother that he was looking for?"

"I just said I wouldn't tell any lies."

"Fine then, but what's with the age difference?" Allen asked curiously. After all, Mana had been in his late 40's, early 50's while the man in front of him probably wasn't even 20.

"I've been dead for 35 years." He answered, the bitterness of the fact was plain to see.

"So you're a ghost?"

"In a sense."

"Alright then, I believe you. Next, you said this thing," Allen gestured to his left arm. "Was called Innocence."

"That is correct."

"And that it's for destroying Demons."

"That's right."

"Why?"

"Pardon?"

"Why? Why do I have it?" He gripped the arm, the thing that he often considered his curse, the thing that made his daily life harder, the thing that would often earn him beatings from many of the normal human beings he came into contact with.

Neah shrugged, "I don't know, but Innocence is supposed to be considered 'God's Blessing'-"

The boy snorted.

"-Though I get the feeling that that's not what you think." Neah ended, noting the boy's temper.

"Blessing my ass," Allen muttered. "If a blessing is something that could get you killed then God is one sadistic bastard."

The adult smirked, "I want to ask, but the polite thing would probably be to not."

"Let's just say that public humiliation, beatings, and attempted murder via fire weren't uncommon."

Neah recoiled. Honestly, what the superstitious masses would do could be more than disturbing.

"Anyway," The cynic leaned against the back of the couch. "What about you? Outside of this… Ark, you were just a voice in my head."

"Ah yes, that. Well, it's hard to explain."

"That didn't answer my question."

"Did I ever say I would answer your questions?" The man asked.

The boy thought for a moment, then cursed loudly.

Neah laughed, the child's reaction was just as amusing as he had hoped for. "Relax kid, I'll try my best to explain it in terms you can understand."

Allen pouted, still upset by the fact that he had been tricked.

"As I said before, I am indeed dead. Meaning I don't have a body of my own." He started. "Since I don't have a body, I had to either latch onto a place to 'Haunt' or merge myself with the conscious of another living being before I could fade away."

"And that was me?"

Neah started to clap, "Somebody give the boy a prize!" He exclaimed in a big voice, the kind that the ringmaster of a circus would use.

Allen rolled his eyes, "Okay, but if you've been part of my conscious all this time, then how come I've only heard you now?"

"In truth, I've been asleep for the entire time as part of your conscious. Besides my death, the last thing I remember is talking to you."

"Huh. Well, how about this, if you've been dead for 35 years, how did you 'merge' yourself with my conscious? From the way you explained it, it sounded like you would have faded away if you didn't do it immediately after your death."

"I'm not really sure myself," He said, enticing a curious look from the other. "I don't remember the act of merging with another person at all. Before waking up and talking to you, I was dying of blood loss in some alley."

Allen sighed, another dead end. "I suppose we should move on to the next topic. So, what's your relation to this 'Millennium Earl?'"

"Hm, that's a tough one." Neah leaned back in his chair, "I suppose you can consider me someone trying to usurp his position."

The boy thought about this for a moment, then replied: "So you want to be a weird fat creep that brings the dead back to life?"

Neah visibly flinched. The kid was very, very blunt. "No."

"Oh?" The boy said, amusement stretching his face into a smile. "Then what could you possibly want with the title?"

"I'm not quite sure really. I just don't like him." Came the flighty reply.

Allen groaned, this was _not _an ideal situation for him to be in. "Okay, let's assume that you did manage to usurp the Earl, there's still that whole problem with you not having your own body. Oh, and you can't have mine."

The adult pouted, "Well, even if I couldn't be a replacement, that means that there wouldn't be an Earl at all. Don't you think that the world would be a better place?"

The boy snorted, "I don't care about the world, or any of it's people for that matter."

"You know," Neah started, his flighty attitude had been replaced by a more serious one. "A boy your age shouldn't be such a cynic."

A smile. "If that's your view on things, then you're just as much of a fool as I am."

Another Smile. "I guess we're a pair of fools then."

"I guess we are.

**A/N: Ara, that came actually came out pretty quickly. Again, I have no Beta-Reader, so if anyone finds any mistakes please tell me in a review. What surprised me was that people followed this, it was a pleasant surprise, but still a surprise. Thank you to everyone who followed and favorite last chapter! It means a lot! Please leave comments, questions, critiques, criticisms, flames, and death threats in a review! Don't be shy!**

**Oyasumi~**

**-Hika-Chan **


	3. Chapter 3: Foolish Clown

**A/N: I keep forgetting to mention this, but instead of using the word 'Akuma', I'll be using 'Demons' instead. Because A: Autocorrect is a pain that I don't want to deal with, B: Why would The Order, its main headquarters based in England, use a Japanese word for demons when their exercising demons in the name of the Catholic/Protestant God? Not to mention around this time Buddhism was much more prominent in Japan anyway, and I'm pretty sure Christianity was outlawed at the time too. Plus, since the order is funded by the Vatican, wouldn't it make more sense to use the Latin word Daemon? Just saying, and C: I just like the sound of it better. Thank you for listening to my rant.**

**April 30****th****, 1888**

Knowing when to strike happens to be essential in plotting revenge. Of course knowing when to wait is just as important.

We continue three years later, at a circus. The red and white striped tent was pitched relatively close to the railroad. This week they had stopped in Moradabad, India, where currently the sky was cloaked in thick gray clouds, threatening to drop a storm at any moment. The circus itself wasn't really known for how diverse it was-It had just as many clashing values, religions, and beliefs as any other circus-, and it could by no means be considered cultured; but no matter where you went, the human masses will always understand people making fools of themselves. The general routine just had to be adjusted a little sometimes.

A 13 year old boy sat atop a wooden crate. He was dressed in a white button up shirt, long slacks, and-strangely enough- gloves. However, his strangest features were his head of dirty white hair, and the long red scar that was deeply carved into the left side of his face. He was reading a book. His eyes-the left a dull silver, the right a vibrant gold- greedily swept over the pages, for what seemed like the billionth time.

_**'You know, you'd think that you had already memorized that book by now.' **_Neah commented on his partner's behavior, though he knew it was unlikely to receive an answer.

Allen shrugged, his eyes not leaving the page.

Neah sighed loudly. _**'Why do you like that book so much anyway? I can understand enjoying it enough to reread it once or twice, but seriously! This is what, the 500**__**th**__** time you've read it?'**_

__'…697th.'

_**'Seriously?' **_He exclaimed. _**'That many times?'**_

__Allen hummed a yes, and closed the book "Household Tales by Brothers Grimm", his hands brushed over its cover thoughtfully before he gently placed it in his bag. Making sure the buttons were completely secure, he slid the bag onto his back. A walk seemed like a nice idea…

_**'You better not, it's only an hour until the show starts and you still have to get ready. Besides, if you get lost chances are you'd never find your way back.' **_Neah added, making a good point.

Allen grumbled at the last statement, so what if he got a little lost every once in a while? It didn't happen often!

Before his mental rant could continue, something whizzed past his ear and struck the dirt next to his foot.

"What the…?" He mumbled, and picked up what had fallen. It was a chunk of ice, about the size of an orange.

_**'Shit, Allen! Take cover!' **_He shouted, the urgency rising in his voice.

Now when Neah was serious, it usually meant something big was going to happen. Thus Allen heeded his advice, and ran for cover to the train depot. Not soon after, more of the orange sized hail fell down to the earth.

The depot wasn't very spacious, a squat brick building with only three windows. Inside, the red brick tiled floor was caked with mud and boot prints. There were two wooden benches pushed against the wall. The ticket booth was unoccupied.

'Dang, it would have seriously hurt to get hit by one of those…' Allen thought, thinking back to how close one had been to hitting his head. 'Would have put us out of commission for a bit, Neah.'

_**'Not to mention the fact that after this, we'll probably have a lot of extra work to do.'**_

__'Eh? What do you mean?'

_**'Think about all of the casualties that this will cause. I bet by the end of the week we'll have at least 100 new Demons to deal with, and that's a modest estimate.'**_

__Allen groaned at the realization, subconsciously gripping his left wrist. A few weeks ago, the scaly, red, arm had begun to flake, leaving dry black skin underneath. He didn't think this was a good thing, seeing as when he used his Innocence he would get tired faster than normal. Neah had a couple a different theories about it, ranging from overuse causing it to decay to a form of metamorphosis. Allen hoped it was the latter, because there would be many problems if he had to fight without it.

Surprisingly enough, no one else sought refuge in depot. This left Allen and Neah to their own devices, meaning that Allen just pulled out his book again and Neah whined loudly about the former being so boring. Eventually, they went to sleep.

**May 1****st****, 1888**

When he woke, the first thing Allen did was look out the window. There was about two feet of somewhat melted hail on the ground. 'Well, I better get to work.' He sighed loudly. Today was going to be a long day.

Allen managed to open the door with some difficulty. Of course nothing seemed to different, despite the extra ice on the ground.

_**'Sense anything?' **_Neah asked.

Allen shook his head, slightly grateful that there wasn't too much work to do early in the morning. It was still the first day though. When the survivors got over the denial of their loved ones deaths the Earl would come, offering his sinful services.

_**'Well, we should get a better grasp on what damage was done.' **_He offered, painfully stating the obvious.

'No shit, Sherlock.' Allen replied, annoyance and sarcasm unmasked in his voice.

_**'What?' **_He asked, clearly confused by the reference**(*)**.

Allen drew out a long sigh, 'I'll explain it later.'

And with that they were off.

…***O*O*…**

To say that Allen was tired would be an understatement.

_**'Um, Allen? Maybe you should take a break…' **_Neah, though very hesitantly, tried to convey his opinion to the younger boy.

"Yeah, yeah," Allen grumbled, the jumped into the air. "Give me a sec…" He swung the giant mutated claw that replaced his left arm.

The demon ripped apart easily, its remains falling to the ground before disintegrating to ash.

Allen stared blankly at the soul. The chain that had bound its neck had snapped returning it to its former beauty. He never really got much of a feeling from watching the souls, though his view about them was fairly simple and straightforward. They had lived their lives as decent enough people, just decent enough for those who were close to them to despair their absence, and they suffered for it. It wasn't the souls he felt for though, it was the bodies. He absolutely loathed them. They called back the ones they cared about, not thinking that they might be better off without them. They left their skins behind to go to whatever afterlife they believed in, leaving the loved ones they cherished so much behind to be slowly corroded away by dark matter.

Though that does make him somewhat of a hypocrite. It honestly was funny what kinds of conflicting conclusions his mind would come up with. Even though he was the kind of person he hated so much, he still did his part as a human being. He hated and he loathed, that was how he identified himself as human.

Though, he could still identify the lighter aspects of humanity. The look of 'True love' between two people-Though he'd more commonly seen their looks of lust-, A mother's love for her child-Though he never felt it himself-, the happiness of having a family-Though he never really had one-.

The only joy he had known was when he imagined how his revenge against the Earl would play out. His time with Mana came close too, but it wasn't exactly joy. True, the mad clown never hit him, and he would never yell at him, but that wasn't a cause for joy in the young cynic's eyes. To him it was more akin to a sense of easiness and eventually familiarity than anything else.

Not that it wasn't appreciated of course, but emotions were like gloves to him-A different pair for a different job. And since when he was little the only gloves he owned consisted of hate, anger, frustration, indifference, and confusion, he didn't quite have room for things like 'Love and happiness.

But despite all of this he was a Walker, and as a walker he would walk until he faced death in the face. Even then he would refuse to come quietly, despite how peaceful death sounded compared to his hell of a life.

No, he would not die easily.

And it was this thought that caused a harsh white glow to emit from his arm, rendering him unconscious.

***O*O***

'_Is he dead?'_

It was a stupid question, seeing how obvious the answer was, but…

'_He's dead.'_

Silence.

'_Cosimo probably did it.'_

It was broken.

'_Don' you want revenge?'_

'_He was your friend, right? Aren't ya sad?'_

It was awkwardly filled.

'_I'm so sad I could die.'_

But it still remained.

***O*O***

Allen's eyelids groggily peaked open, squinting at the far too bright sun. In a very lethargic manner he twisted his head away from the window, to look at his surroundings. He was met with the view of Neah using a hammer to bludgeon something at his work table. That didn't surprise Allen though, what surprised him was the fact that he hadn't woken up earlier, considering the fact that his self-proclaimed 'Uncle' was taking any measures to be quiet in his work.

Allen could only stare as the older male turned around with a hammer in hand, wearing a pair of safety goggles and a lab coat that was stained with machine grease and oil, smiling like the homicidal manic he was.

"Good morning, Allen~!" The 'adult' exclaimed in a sing-song voice, swinging his hammer.

Allen silently stared for a little bit more, until breaking his silence. "…Do I want to know?"

"Yes actually," Neah hummed, "I'll tell you, but first, how's your arm?"

He looked confused for a moment, then lifted up his arm to inspect. The rest of the scaly red skin had flaked of, leaving the smooth black skin. His fingernails had significantly shortened to a fairly normal length. And instead of the green cross like jewel being imbedded into the back of his hand, there was a simple white cross tattooed on.

"Well? How does it feel?" The other asked.

Allen flexed his fingers. They felt a little stiff, but would probably loosen up with use. He probably wouldn't be able to cheat in a card game for a while, or write with his left hand, but it wouldn't be too bad. "Good enough, I suppose. Might take about a week to get used to though."

Neah nodded happily, "Good, good, I'd say by now you've hit the 100% Synchronization rate. Now all that you have to do is surpass that."

Allen raised an eyebrow at this, "Easier said than done."

Neah shrugged, "Yes, well, you'll almost definitely need to be a critical point breaker if you're going to beat the Earl." He returned to his table, "Now, do you want to see what I've been working on?"

Allen, though rather reluctantly, had to admit that he was curious about the project his uncle had been working on for the past few weeks. He nodded and scooted a bit closer.

Neah promptly turned around and handed him a small object that fit into his palm.

"A… A Pocket Watch?" Said the cynic, his voice chalked full of disappointment and anti-climactic confusion.

The engineer of said item smirked, "Push the button."

He did as he was told. When he pushed down the button, the sound of whirring gears started to buzz from the watch. The face popped open revealing some sort of grid with glowing dots on it, and a small arrow spinning around.

Overall, he was extremely confused, so he looked to his companion for an answer.

His companion, clearly seeing the questioning look, sighed and started to explain. "In short, it's an Innocence Locator. I still have a few bugs to work out of it, but it should come in handy."

And now the boy was even more confused. "Wait a minute, we're looking for Innocence now too? Isn't that the Black Order's job?"

"True, but Innocence does give off a decent amount of power. Not only is it Dark Matter's only weakness, but it's also a renewable source of energy. It wouldn't hurt to…stockpile a supply."

Allen's eyes narrowed, "But wouldn't the Black Order be onto us if they realized that we were hoarding their precious Innocence?"

Neah shrugged, "So? They wouldn't be able to catch us, we've got the Ark. Besides, if I told you that with enough pieces of Innocence we could destroy the Earl once and for all?"

Allen scooted even closer, "I'm listening."

Smirking, Neah handed Allen a blueprint on his latest idea.

Allen stared at it for a while, practically shivering from what was depicted in the schematic. "You know, if you can pull this off, I might actually respect you."

"Oh?" He sang the questioning note, looking pointedly at the 13 year old boy sitting front of him. "You mean to say that you don't already hold me in high regard?"

The boy snorted, "Who would find a fool impressive?"

"Another fool, possibly."

"Hm, true enough."

"So, you in?"

"You have to ask? When do we start?"

**A/N: Yay! That was longer than normal! Yippee! Anyway, thank you to all the people who followed and added this story to their favorites! I really appreciate it! Special thanks to fruitloop-chan who left a review!**

** On a different note, I think I should mention that there'll be no pairings in this. And there won't be any O.C.'s either. Also, any requests? Suggestions? Please leave them in a review! Seriously! I need reviews! I don't care if it's just a flame or a troll! Both will be gratefully accepted!**

** And at that, if you like this story and would like to see more updates, PLEASE FAVORITE, FOLLOW, REVIEW, COMMENT, QUESTION, SEND A DEATH THREAT, ETC. Phew, that's it. Oyasumi~**

**-Hika-chan**


	4. Chapter 4: Foolish Meetings

**A/N: And here's the next chapter! Thank you to all who reviewed last chapter! Though the only person who did review was Kenzie Perth, so thank you Kenzie! Oh and by the way, the hail storm in Moradabad India April 30****th**** 1888 did actually happen, it killed an estimated 240 people from either impact or eventually freezing to death. I originally had some sort of grand master plan to introduce Nalei/Narain, but I eventually killed that plot bunny. Oh, and the reason why Neah was confused about the Sherlock Holmes reference was because the first book Sherlock Holmes was in, A Study in Scarlet, was printed in 1888. In the timeline I'm using, Neah died in 1855. So, yeah… Um, anyway… Enjoy?**

**Warning!: Bad attempt at British accents!**

**May 11****th****, 1889**

It's not untypical to meet someone new every day, though normally the people you meet aren't Exorcists.

We continue a little over a year later, on a train heading to London, England.

Allen sighed heavily, looking out the train window. The flat green land, overgrown with some sort of long wispy grass and dotted with a few trees passed by at relatively high speed. It had been a long day. Not only did he have to put up with the fact that his normally constant companion had decided to take a nap (He snored rather loudly), but he also had to put up with his new temporary companion for the rest of the ride (and of course he would NOT SHUT UP).

Allen glared disdainfully at the young man across from him, he had said his name at some point, but it's not like Allen could be bothered to remember such trivial things. For that reason, the annoying creature in front of him would be dubbed as 'Rabbit'.

The Rabbit could not be bothered by his 'New Found Friend's' death glare, and instead continued with his far-fetched and utterly bizarre story as to why he had gotten kicked out of his own compartment and was now bothering the poor fool. He had a shade of vibrant wine red hair held up by a simple black bandana, a fair complexion suggesting he had mixed European roots, and an eye patch covered his right eye.

However, there was two things about the Rabbit that put Allen on edge.

The first being that his one visible green eye, contrary of its owner's bubbly attitude, remained emotionless and calculating.

The second being his clothing, and no that does not mean the ridiculously tight white pants, but the fact that he was sporting a coat with the silver Rose Cross emblazoned on it.

Oh how they, the Black Order, would love to know that at this very moment he had three pieces of their precious Innocence in his pocket right now. Of course the Exorcist sitting right across from him had no idea of that.

"And then Yuu-chan kicked me out. Don't you think that was totally unfair? Hey, are you listening?" The Rabbit leaned forward and prodded him.

This knocked him out of his idleness, "I'm sorry, what?" He asked. Though he didn't really care, it was important to at least maintain some degree of manners. After all the other hadn't done anything stupid, yet.

The Rabbit sighed playfully, "Come on buddy! That's like, the third time you weren't paying attention!" He then gasped comically, "Oh, could it be? Could it be that you don't like me!"

"Yes." He deadpanned.

The Rabbit pouted, "Oh come on, that's just rude..."

"Says the person who barged into my compartment uninvited."

"But we're both redheads! And we both have eye patches! We should stick together!" He cried, waving his hands in a melodramatic way.

Allen scoffed. True, he had used one of Neah's inventions to temporarily turn his normally white hair to an auburn color, but that didn't make him a redhead. He had covered up his gold eye with an eye patch to avoid suspicions of being a Noah. And he had used some sort of powder, also Neah's invention, to disguise his rather prominent scar.

He decided now would be a good time to start ignoring the stupid Rabbit, and pulled out a book from the backpack sitting next to him.

"Hey! Pay attention!"

"Mmm, No…"

Suddenly his book, _"A Study in Scarlet"_, was ripped from his hands. His eyes widened considerably, "Wha…"

"There!" The Rabbit smiled triumphantly holding to book high above his head.

"G-Give it Back!" He shouted angrily.

"N-O-P-E. You got to talk to me first!"

"I said give it back!" He snarled, and reached for his book.

But the grinning redhead just held it higher, barely out of reach of the younger boy. "You'll have to reach harder, beansprout~"

"Beansprout!" And that made Allen snap. He grabbed the bright orange scarf around the rabbit's neck and pulled him down to his eyelevel. "Listen, Rabbit! I've put up with you for the last two hours, and I've been very patient." He seethed, "I think I deserve a little peace, don't you?"

The Rabbit was sweating bullets. The cute, antisocial, kid had just given him an unspoken death threat as sharp as a certain samurai's sword. He gulped and nodded nervously.

A smile spread across the younger boy's face as he took his book back, and he cheerfully hummed as he began to pick up where he left off in the book.

The Rabbit did not utter a single word for the remaining hour of the trip.

**London, England**

Allen heaved a sigh of relief as he exited the train. As soon as it had come to a stop the Rabbit had quickly exited the compartment, muttering something about bipolar beansprouts. Where he was going, Allen did not know.

What he did know, was that the loud grumbling noise that was being emitted from his stomach meant that he was hungry.

_'Neah!'_

The mentioned fool was still snoring loudly, unresponsive to his name being called.

_'Neah! Wake up!' _The younger boy mentally shouted, as loud as his thoughts would let him.

And he still didn't stir.

Allen rolled his eyes, _'I'm gonna go to the nearest whore house and-'_

_**'NO!' **_The snoring had abruptly stopped.

He stifled a snort, _'Relax. I won't.' _Allen worked his way through the crowd gathered around to board the train. Trying to fight his way outside the outside the train station to the streets. _'Now, is there any food on the Ark?'_

_**'Nope, you cleaned out the supplies before you boarded the train. Speaking of which, why don't you just use the Ark to get around? It would be a lot faster.' **_Neah asked, though he already had an idea of the answer.

_'Well for one, it's a manner of principle. I don't exactly get to see other countries as often since I quit the circus. And two, I get the feeling the Earl will eventually find us if we're not careful about how we use the Ark. If not him then one of the other 'Apostles'.' _He droned on for a bit.

He exited the station, _'Now are you absolutely positive that there isn't any food? Because I'm out of money, and it's too early in the day for any good gambling._'

_**'Yep, positive. I wouldn't lie to you.'**_

__Allen let out a dejected sigh, silently moping about starving to death. Until he saw something in the crowd. _'Hey, can the machine that changed my hair change my clothes too?'_

Neah was a bit confused by the question. _**'Er, technically. It can't be anything to intricate though. Why?'**_

___'Because I'll need a change in appearance if I want this to work.'_

__Allen smirked and pulled something out of his bag. This was going to be so much fun…

***O*O***

Lenalee Lee was fiddling with her long jet black hair nervously. Though she knew it was rude, she had left the Order for town that day before Komui could launch his annual surprise party for her. Sure, she loved her brother, but he could be so overbearing and extreme at times it was ridiculous.

She weaved her way through the large crowds of people, quietly apologizing whenever she bumped into someone. No one paid much attention to her, so it was like any normal day in the city. Of course, it was her 15th birthday so maybe it was slightly better than normal.

Wandering around with no particular destination in mind, she passed by several shops and restaurants in the business district. She had not planned on anything particular to do, so she just spent her time idly looking at the merchandise displayed in the shop windows.

When she had just about decided that she wanted to go home, something caught her attention.

"We' go' no food fo' stree' rats like you!" She turned her head to the sound of a deep voice yelling. At the door to one of the restaurants, there was a tall, burly man shouting at another person. The man looked to be in his early 40's, his graying dark brown hair was cut close to his scalp, and he wore a greasy apron over his clothes. He was brandishing a metal ladle, threatening to beat the other person.

The other person was a boy, about 13 or 14, was on his knees. He was dressed in a worn, filled with holes, knee length dark brown coat. His porcelain skin was smeared with dirt, and his shaggy auburn hair was greasy and matted, like he hadn't taken a bath in a long time. His mercury eyes were wide and pleading. "Please sir, I 'avn't ea'en in days! Don' you 'ave any scraps you coul' spare?"

The man snarled and raised his ladle to hit the boy, but…

"Stop!" Lenalee shouted, she had rushed over to the two during the scene, stopping the ladle before it could hit the boy.

The large man gave her a funny look, confused by the intervention. "Lis'n girly," His voice had dropped in considerably in volume. "You bes' ge' ou' the way."

Lenalee's jaw was set in a firm line. "I'll pay."

"Eh?"

"I'll pay for his food." She deadpanned.

The boy perked up at this, staring at the girl who had not only stopped the man from beating him with his ladle of pain but also offered him a meal, with wide disbelieving eyes. They grew to the size of saucers when the same girl turned around and offered him her hand. He, though rather uncertainly and shakily, raised his right hand to take hers and stood up.

The man hesitantly lowered his ladled, still looking confused. He shrugged it off and welcomed in the 'Beggar Brat' and the 'Crazy Foreign Lady' into the restaurant.

***O*O***

Lenalee couldn't help but stare. The boy, who she had yet to learn the name up, ate at an inhuman pace. His table manners weren't the best either. Apparently one of his arms was limp(It was covered up with a ragged oven mitt), so instead of using the silverware he was shoving food in his mouth with his right hand(Thank God there wasn't any soup). At least he had the decency to close his mouth while chewing, otherwise she probably would have had to excuse herself to puke.

She sighed. Well, he did say he hadn't eaten in days, that's bound to make anyone act like a ravenous animal at the table. And judging from his attire, and his apparent lack of reading skills(She had to read the menu for him), he didn't have much experience with actual establishments that sold food. She didn't get any food for herself, seeing how Jerry had probably cooked a feast at home anyway, and now she was glad she hadn't.

When the boy had finished eating, she decided to strike up a conversation with him.

"So, I take it you were hungry." She said, slightly bemused.

The boy blushed and looked away in embarrassment, shifting awkwardly in his seat, "Eheh, I guess you can say tha'."

It took a bit to suppress a giggle, his reaction was rather humorous. "So, is there any reason why you're out on the streets? I mean, don't you have relatives? Friends?"

"Ah." He hummed, "No parents, as far as I know I've always been on my own." He paused and thought for a moment. "As for friends, they're a little hard to make on the streets."

Lenalee's face fell, "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." Was it just her, or was something different about him?

The boy smiled, "Oh don' worry bou' I', Miss, I' ain' your fault." He looked down at the ground again, fidgeting uncomfortably. "Um, Miss?"

Lenalee cocked her head to the side. "Yes?"

He suddenly looked up, locking eyes with her. "Why did you do that?"

She had been caught off guard. "Pardon? Why'd I do what?"

"Stop him, from beating me. Why?" He asked, his mercury eyes were trained on her violet ones.

Now it was her turn to fidget in her seat. Those unnerving eyes bore into her, as if waiting to absorb her answer. Something was definitely different, but what? …The way he talked. His accent was gone! For some reason, knowing this fact made his unnerving silver stare even harder to bare. "Because," she started, still unsure about her words, "it is not right, to just watch a person get beaten. To watch one person willfully hurt another, feels very inhumane."

The boy still stared at her, but less expectantly. His pale lips had fallen into a simple downward curve. Not exactly a frown, more like a calculating expression. His eyelids drooped, giving her a questioning half-lidded gaze. Seconds dragged on for what seemed like hours. She felt her heart beat in her skull, pounding over and over like a war drum. Was it the silence was getting to her, or something else? Maybe his eyes? Now that she thought about it silver wasn't exactly a common color, not that she was one to talk with purple. No, it wasn't his eyes, it was something else. His whole demeanor was just off, unsettling. Like he wasn't exactly human…

Not human… No, it couldn't be! Was he a demon? Her heart rate increased ten-fold, could it tell she was an Exorcist? She hadn't worn her coat though, maybe it could sense her Innocence? Her hands instinctively dropped to her legs, griping the top of the oh-so-special boots that she always wore. If that was the case, then why hadn't it attacked her yets? The Demons weren't supposed to have this much control over their bloodlust, much less be able to orchestrate an elaborate plan like this! Were their more of them in the restaurant? God, was this an ambush!? How many were there! Crap! She was probably surrounded!

"Ah, Miss?" She snapped back to attention as the boy-maybe-Demon broke that oh so uncomfortable silence. "Are you okay? You seem unsettled." The boy's face was one of concern. If he was a demon, he certainly was good at mimicking human emotions.

"Oh, um yes. I'm fine." Her eyes darted to the other people there. About 15, not including herself and the boy. They couldn't all be demons, could they?

The boy nodded at her reply, though he probably didn't believe it. "Anyways, Miss, Thank you so much for doing this."

"Oh, well, it wasn't a problem." She smiled, despite the anxiety she felt. "I'm glad I could help! Is there anything else that you need help with?" Okay Lena, play dumb. Then they might put their guard down…

He shook his head furiously, "Oh no, I couldn't trouble you any more Miss. You've already done so much! It's just I'd like to give you something as thanks."

Here it comes, this is when it would attack… "Oh really, it was no trouble at all. You don't have to!" Keep it up, yep, pretend you don't notice…

The boy nodded, "I insist, it's just something I found lying about." Oh well that's nice to know. "Here, please take it." From his pocket, he had produced a small bundle of cloth about the size of a golf ball, and he placed it on the table in front of her.

Hesitantly, she picked up the mystery item. Yes, despite all of her cautions and mental preparations she _still _picked it up. Way to go Ms. Lee, that was a really stupid move, you get a cookie.

The boy smiled, "Thank you so much, Miss Exorcist."

Her head shot up, letting out a rather loud gasp, to see that the boy wasn't there anymore. He had honest to goodness had disappeared into thin air, without a sound and without any indication of where he might be. Still, her head whipped back and forth in a desperate attempt to locate the boy who had just been sitting in front of her. She was met by stares from the restaurants other patrons, apparently the gasp she had made was louder than she had thought.

Embarrassed, she quietly apologized and sat down. She hadn't been attacked yet, so maybe this wasn't an ambush? Maybe he wasn't a Demon. But he had called her 'Miss Exorcist', so he obviously knew that she was an accommodator… Maybe he was a Broker? Crap, if that was the case… She would have to tell the people at Head Quarters. They'd have to know everything…

Everything… Her eyes rested upon the cloth bundle. She knew she shouldn't, it could be used as evidence, she _really _wanted to know what it was. She gulped nervously, was it worth it? It could be lethal… But the curiosity was killing her! Would it be worth it?

She picked up the bundle. It was remarkably light, and felt as though it could just be a piece of cloth just wrapped up several times. She gulped, making her decision. Well, she had paid for his meal, how wrong was it to want to know what was shrouded by a piece of cloth that the boy had left? Carefully she unwrapped the cloth.

What she saw made her eyes bulge out of her head. Two small circular gears floated around a small glowing stone. In her hands, shining in all of its radio-active green glory, was a chunk of pure Innocence. On the inside of the cloth, a message had been written. _Kindness may be rewarded. I hope to do business with you again, Miss Exorcist~ sincerely- The Fool_. Her hands shook a bit, this would require a _lot _of explaining to her brother.

** A/N: And that took way to long, Ah, Gomenasai, I apologize immensely for my incompetence and inability to update earlier. I have no excuse, just my own lack of ability. Anyway, I somehow doubt any of you read A/N's, so I want to run an experiment. If you read this, please write a review that includes the word Llama. Or just review, PLEASE REVIEW! I'M BEGGING YOU!**


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